


Be Mine, Hermione.

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 07:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17783522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Hermione has been receiving mysterious paper hearts from a secret admirer for a week. She has no clue who the culprit could be, but he seems to know her better than almost anyone. He ends each note with "Be mine, Hermione."





	Be Mine, Hermione.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hai, it's just me back on my Dramione bullshit... Have some Valentine's Day smut! This one is dedicated to my Twitter Dramione-Reylos. <3

Valentine’s Day is a load of rubbish. At least, that’s what Hermione tells herself as she tries not to burn holes in the back of Romilda Vane’s head as the vapid secretary places a lovely bouquet of flowers on Angela Thomas’ desk. There have been three deliveries of similar sentimental nonsense thus far today… and none of them for her.

Normally, she wouldn’t have a reason to expect anything. She hasn’t dated anyone since she broke up with Ron nearly two years ago, and they were never big on Valentine’s Day anyway.

But this stupid prat—whoever he is—has gotten her hopes up.

She opens her drawer and pulls the collection out again, rereading each of the paper hearts in succession. The first came about a week ago and read, _The brightest witch of our age… also the brightest flame in my heart. Be mine, Hermione._

Insufferable, really.

The second came later that same day and was attached to a first edition copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It read, _Appearances can be deceiving. Did you know Lewis Carroll was a Squib? Don’t judge a book by its cover. Be mine, Hermione._

The paper hearts became increasingly more personal, and it was clear that whoever was sending them knew her quite well—she just couldn’t figure out who it was. He had referenced her dress for the Yule Ball, events from eighth year when she was Head Girl, and even managed to ask how Crookshanks was handling old age.

That was how she knew it wasn’t Ron trying to win her back.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice the figure approach her desk, plopping himself down on the very edge. “What’s the matter, Granger? No roses or chocolates for you?” He pushes away a lock of platinum hair as it falls across his eye.

“Shove off, Malfoy. For your information, I have a secret admirer.” _Shit_. Why did she say that? It seems that Draco Malfoy is always catching her off guard. They had been paired together on a recent case—he was the Auror assigned to track down poachers trying to sell acromantula venom, and she was the only person from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures who was available to help.

Now he comes by whenever he pleases, just to chat. She always pretends to be irritated but has found that she doesn’t completely hate his company.

“Oh you do, do you?” He raises an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe her.

She huffs as she stashes the hearts back into her drawer. She has them all memorized anyway. “Yes, and not that it’s any of your business, but we have a date scheduled for tonight.” She thinks of the last heart that arrived yesterday: _I will meet you after work, when all shall be revealed. If you can let go of the past, I promise you won’t be disappointed. Be mine, Hermione._

“That’s quite dangerous, don’t you think? He could be a murderer for all you know.”

She scoffs, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. “I don’t think he’s a murderer. He’s very articulate and loquacious.”

“And murderers can’t be? Ah, so he’s a writer then... Got your knickers all in a twist with his words, eh? All plagiarized, I bet. Probably sitting in a library, copying directly from Shakespeare—”

“How do you know Shakespeare?”

He grabs his chest. “Granger, you insult me. I happen to be a man of very diverse tastes.”

“I’m sure you are.” She rolls her eyes.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He leans in closer, his breath making the stray tendrils of her hair move.

She gulps. She’s heard the stories—he has a reputation for being a bit of cad. Then again, that was before their assignment. She hasn’t actually seen him with anyone in…

He makes her jump slightly as he runs the tip of his finger under her chin, forcing her to look into his stormy eyes. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I just… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Hmm,” he hums, the edge of his tongue coming out to wet his lips. She doesn’t mean to stare at them for so long. “Well, I’d better let you get back to it, then. Have fun on your date.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione glances at the clock again. She is a bundle of nerves with less than a quarter of a hour to go before her mystery man is revealed. No more hearts have arrived and she’s starting to wonder if he’ll even show.

Malfoy hasn’t been back to bother her any further. She’s been trying to put their little encounter out of her head, but she finds it increasingly difficult. She keeps thinking about his breath on her face, his finger on her chin, the way his mouth had looked.

 _I do_ not _have a crush on Draco Malfoy_.

Just then a paper airplane lands on her desk. It’s the way interoffice memos are handled, so she doesn’t bat an eyelash, but then it unfolds itself into a paper heart.

_Words to describe you: beautiful, intelligent, kind, radiant, a fucking goddess. Words to describe me: foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach._

Her breath catches in her chest as she gasps at the familiar words.

“Be mine, Hermione?” a familiar drawl asks.

She looks up to see Draco standing before her with a bouquet of tiger lillies—her favorite. The office is empty and it’s just the two of them. He looks dashing in his all black suit and nervously pushes back his fringe.

Carefully, she stands and accepts the flowers, setting them on the desk. “It’s been you the whole time?”

He nods, a hint of nerves evident on his usually calm face. “For me, it’s always been you. I never thought you could ever feel the same, after everything I put you through… and then we worked together. You treated me like a person instead of a criminal. You laughed at my jokes. You smiled at me, and I thought that just maybe—”

“Draco,” she interrupts.

“Yeah?”

“Get to the part where you kiss me.”

His eyes go wide as he exhales shakily and then sweeps her into his arms. He wastes no time planting his lips on hers and snogging her for all she’s worth. Hermione’s hands go straight to his hair, threading her fingers through the silky tresses as she moans into his mouth.

When they finally break apart for air, she asks, “So what do you have planned for our date?”

 

* * *

 

Dinner in the Malfoy Manor library is not what she would have guessed, but it is exquisite. The table has been set with candles and more paper hearts: each one has a quote from a different book. She transfigures her work robes into a red dress for the occasion and takes great delight in the way his mouth falls agape when he sees her.

Hermione is presented with course after course of sumptuous food, but her mind keeps wandering to other things—namely Draco’s long fingers and how his hands felt on her body. She wants to feel them again, soon.

Talking with him is easy when his defenses aren’t up. Now that the fear of rejection isn’t hanging over his head, he smiles more than smirks and asks about her day. He still teases her, though. She hopes that never stops if it keeps making her blush like she is now.

Her curiosity is undying, though. “Why the hearts?”

He blinks and looks down at his plate. They are currently on the meat course: a flank steak dressed with greens and a balsamic glaze. “I didn’t think you’d believe me otherwise.”

She nods and pops a bite into her mouth, considering. “You’re probably right. I would’ve thought it was a joke.”

“That’s all my fault.” His expression becomes pained, and he wipes his mouth before rising from his seat. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

He grabs her hand and weaves through the endless bookshelves, clearly on a mission. They come to a corner and just like a Muggle mystery movie, he pulls a book out like he’s going to take it off the shelf only to put it back causing the entire shelf to swing inward.

Hermione’s jaw drops as she follows him into the small room. Inside are more shelves, but instead of books they hold small vials swirling with metallic fluid.

He shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I needed a place my father wouldn’t find. He rarely came into the library.”

She looks at the shelves, labeled by content. Her hearts slams against her chest when she realizes there is a whole shelf marked “Hermione Granger.”

He plucks one of the vials off the shelf and dumps it into the nearby pensieve. “After you.”

Suddenly she is back in fourth year and seeing a very different version of herself dancing around the Great Hall in the arms of Viktor Krum. This Hermione is radiant, nearly surrounded by a halo of light. Her face lights up when she laughs and it’s as if a camera pans around zooming in on her heaving chest as she catches her breath.

She watches as Pansy fights with Draco. _Would you stop staring at the Mudblood and dance with me?_ It isn’t until she whispers something truly naughty into his ear that they finally leave and the memory ends.

“Draco,” she breathes as they’re safely back in the room.

“One more?”

She thinks she’s seen enough to make up her mind about him, but she can tell it’s important to him. “Okay.”

He pulls another off the shelf and pours the contents in. It is a more recent memory, from the case they worked together. She had nearly forgotten the time they went out for drinks together after a particularly hard day. She winces as this Hermione prattles on about useless information, but Draco’s memory hasn’t cut any details. He listened to every word.

She has a little too much to drink and is unable to Apparate home safely so he takes her. He walks her to flat and when she has trouble with the keys, he opens the door for her. She watches as he helps her into bed and conjures a hangover potion that he leaves on the nightstand. She is unconscious by the time he pulls the covers up over her, smooths the hair back from her face, and places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

The memory ends, and she whips around to face him. He looks like a man about to be chastised, but that’s the furthest thing from her mind. She launches herself at him, and his arms wrap around her instantly as she attaches herself to his mouth.

Little moans of pleasure escape them both as they lose themselves in the kiss. They are tangle of limbs and tongues and teeth, fueled by a frenetic energy as they make up for lost time.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says at last when she lets him breathe.

“I wish I would’ve known.”

They leave the secret room, Draco checking its wards before turning back to her.

“You know, Malfoy… I have a particular fantasy about libraries.”

“You think I don’t know that, Granger? Why else would I have brought you here? Some witches want luxury or exotic destinations. Mine wants books.”

A thrill runs down her spine at him referring to her as his. If anyone else had said it, she might have launched into a long feminist diatribe about how she belongs to no one—but looking into his grey eyes, she realizes—she’s fine with being possessed by him. “What can I say? I’m easy.”

He smirks and pulls her to him, backing her into one of the nearby shelves. “Oh, you are anything but.”

Then his lips are on her again, and she sighs as his fingers tangle in her hair. She takes the opportunity to run her hands all over him in turn—the silky smooth of his white-blonde hair, the corded muscles of his shoulders and upper arms, the firmness of his arse.

“Eager, are we?” She can feel his smirk against her neck as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin there. Merlin, why had they waited so long to do this?

“I want you,” she whispers. It scares her a little how much. It hit her suddenly, but now that it’s here, she realizes how long it’s been laying there dormant.

“I have waited a very long time to hear you say that. How about you say it again?”

She giggles and kisses his neck, letting her teeth lightly drag across his skin and eliciting a heady groan. “I want you, Draco.”

He makes a sound like a growl and grabs her firmly around the thighs, hiking her up against the shelf. She wraps her legs around him dutifully and feels his hardness as he grinds against her center. She whimpers at the friction.

He kisses across her collarbone as he shimmies the strap of her dress down, pulling the fabric aside enough to free one of her breasts. The sheer lace of her bra is there, but he pushes that aside as well until she is bare to him, and he can suck her into his mouth.

She groans as his tongue swirls around her nipple, arching into him and twisting her fingers tightly in his hair. “Oh god.”

He starts bucking against her and Hermione thinks her knickers must be completely soaked through by now. A book digs into her back, and she grunts.

Draco smirks. “Had enough of the library then?”

It pains her to say it, but it’s not entirely practical—especially for their first time. “I think so.”

“Perfect,” he murmurs and before she can say anything else, he’s Apparating them somewhere.

As soon as they arrive, Hermione finds herself tossed onto a giant four-poster bed. She takes in the sizeable room decorated in shades of silver and emerald. She is in Draco Malfoy’s bed.

“This needs to come off,” he croons as he strips her of her dress. She lifts her arms to allow him to slide it over her head and relishes his little gasp when he sees her underthings. They are sheer red heart-patterned lace. It’s very on the nose for the day, but he isn’t complaining.

She lets out a little yelp as he flattens her on her back and starts dragging her knickers down, placing open mouthed kisses on her abdomen as he goes. His tongue laves over the juncture of her hip and pelvis and she moans. No one’s ever treated her quite like this before.

He pulls her underwear off the rest of the way and starts to part her legs. She has to fight the urge to keep them closed, but then she feels his breath on her little patch of hairs and her knees fall open willingly. He parts her already drenched folds and sighs. “You’re perfect, Granger. I always knew it.”

That’s the last thing he says before he brings his beautiful mouth down to her apex, his talented tongue running up the length of her and pausing to swirl deliciously around her clit.

Hermione moans, her hands dragging through Draco’s hair as he continues to feast on her. She would swear he’s never tasted anything better, if the way he’s sucking and devouring her is any indication. Her hips buck up of their own volition and he stills her movements with a palm to her belly.

“So wet for me,” he moans before he dives back in, this time putting his long fingers to use and thrusting one inside her.

“Ah—Draco!” She practically screams as he adds a second finger to his movements, curling them inside of her to reach that spongy spot that makes her toes curl.

She feels herself careening toward the edge as he fucks her with his fingers and sucks her delicate pearl between his lips. With one last nudge of his tongue she collapses into bliss, clenching around his digits as she rides it out.

Her vision is a little hazy as she watches him crawl up her body and claim her mouth again, the taste of her still on his tongue. She never wants to leave this bed. She lives here now.

Draco’s face goes from quite pleased with himself to concerned as he watches her. “What’s wrong?”

She feels her frown and states simply, “You have too many clothes on.”

He laughs and starts peeling off his shirt. The trousers go next, then the briefs. He is—larger than she expects. Her gasp is involuntary but well received. She can tell by his smirk.

He runs his fingers over her bra lace. “I think this will stay on. I rather like it.”

She smiles, her mouth falling open to an O shape as she feels him nudging her entrance. “Wait! Contraception charm!”

He nods and summons his wand to a mutter the incantation before lining himself up again. Then he’s pushing inside and oh. _Oh_.

It is heaven. The stretch is _good_ and she knows it’s good for him, too, because he keeps closing his eyes and stopping before pushing in further. When he has fully sheathed himself in her, he opens his eyes—waiting for her affirmation.

She nods and he moves and nothing has ever felt this right, she’s sure. He drags against her inner walls like he was made solely for her pleasure. Every stroke drives her closer to a high she didn’t know was attainable. Her usually eloquent thoughts devolve into _more_ and _yes_ and _please_ . _Right there. Draco, Draco, Draco._

He is filling her so completely she fears she might burst. His hips pick up the already punishing pace and he shifts to push one of her knees towards her chest. Then it’s _deeper, oh god, Draco please_.

Just when Hermione thinks she can’t take any more, he brings one of his long fingers between them to rub at her clit as he pistons into her.

Then she is gone, babbling nonsense as he pushes her over the edge. She comes apart with his name on her tongue, squeezing him so tightly she might be concerned if it didn’t feel so bloody good.

His hips stutter as he follows her with his release, one last thrust before he spills inside her, coating her insides with his hot seed.

He stills but doesn’t pull out. She can feel her little aftershocks still fluttering around him and it’s nice—just to be connected still. He peppers her face with kisses, the most genuine smile she’s ever seen plastered on his face. He is happy, and she’s the reason.

“You never actually answered my question before,” he says.

“What?”

“Be mine, Hermione?”

She laughs, the insinuation that he would still need reassurance after _that_ somehow hilarious. “I’m yours, Draco.”

“Good.” He finally pulls out, rolls, and then tucks her into himself, her head firmly under his chin. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”


End file.
